


The Edge of the Universe

by Draycarla



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Enemies to Lovers, I use lovers sparingly but it makes some sense?, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Rimming, Stranger Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23454205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draycarla/pseuds/Draycarla
Summary: Tasked by the Space Pirate Zarkon to find his Champion, Sendak's journey of phoebs leads him to a dingy little establishment at the 'edge of the universe', where sure enough, he find's the Champion that's kept him captivated for well over a deca-phoeb. He's not letting the man out of his sight; even if he proves to make it as difficult as possible.
Relationships: Sendak/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 60





	The Edge of the Universe

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday present, to myself. My birthday is the 3rd of April, and today I turn 30! Which...is kinda meh? I used to be more worried in my early-mid 20s in all honesty, but meeeeeeh.
> 
> This is also a weird one.  
> So I've had a go at writing in present tense and...it...works? Also these guys effective start off as strangers. They know of each other, just they've never spoken until now. It's made tagging really hard.
> 
> They are enemies in so much of the situation of Shiro being a fugitive and Sendak presumably after his head, but then...well you'll see.
> 
> This hits all my little things, and honestly I'm happy.

_Universe's End is_ an infamous bar, situated at the 'edge of the universe' some said. The place itself saw a lot of traffic, but never enough to warrant the owner to seemingly do the place up, like fix the leaking facets or clean the blood from the floor. They supplied a haven and drink, and that was all Shiro could ask for. It wasn't the _edge_ per-say, but the space beyond it was impossible to navigate, even for the best of pilots. Many had flown into the ionised clouds searching for what lay beyond, but none had made the return voyage. Or, if they did, to far-off realities or an entirely different area of space. The point was, no one was ever heard of again. If he was younger, Shiro would've been stupid enough to take that risk himself; to voyage into the unknown in his ship, the _Black Lion_. These days, he had more pressing, real dangers. Namely the notorious space pirate, Zarkon, who was rightly after the _Black Lion_. Perhaps in hindsight he shouldn't have stolen her, but he wasn't going to remain on that ship any longer just to fight like an animal in the hold for them. That, and the _Black Lion's_ specs meant he was always out of reach of Zarkon's grasp.

The clamorous noise subsides quickly. There's a newcomer here. Shiro pulls his hood down, fingers tapping against his glass as he hears heavy footfalls cross the floor, ears pricking as boots pull away from months-old dried alcohol that still retained its adhesion. From the corner of his eye he watches as an intricately designed prosthetic arm comes down with force against the counter-top, the noise echoing around the silent room. There is a heavy pause as Shiro hears the newcomer shift. He wants to look up, to gauge whoever this is, but then that lent itself to showing interest; and right now he was trying to work out who the hell would be here sporting Haggar's work. It was the glowing lines of quintessence that he _knew_ powered that arm, but much newer-looking compared to his own. He heard a creak, then watched an organic, furred hand rest against the counter.

“A Screaming Komar; triple shot of nunvil.”

There was a hard, knife-like edge to the voice that sounded like the speaker had gone and swallowed sand, but regardless of that fact, there was something Shiro recognised about it; but couldn't place from where. He sounded self-assured, arrogant, but also like there was a collected confidence. A long time ago he had a friend like that, Keith, but minus the arrogance. They were opposite ends of the universe now and Shiro hopes Keith's doing okay. His attention turns back to the barkeeper, Zestera; an alien with bronze skin and russet hair, but shaved on one side. Their tail grabs a glass from under the counter, and with a snort they place it on top with a clatter. Shiro finishes his drink, catching sharp eyes with a soft smile. These days his softness is reserved for the few who earned it. The chatter around them picks back up once the newcomer offers a single grunt as thanks. Shiro's body releases its tension as he flags Zestera for another drink.

“Same again.” He proffers his glass, and receives a curt nod in return.

“Ah, shit. Gotta go out back,” their tail knocks a clean glass to the floor, “fuck _sake_. Yastara is so _shit_ at stocking up. Kal's gonna be pissed.”

“She'll be fine.” Shiro watches them grunt again, pulling the blaster from under the bar.

“If you hear shots just ignore it.” They flash him a quick smirk, before thundering out through the back. Shiro sighs, rubbing his eyes until a _clack_ to his side catches his attention. He looks down, feeling his blood run cold at the sigil etched into something no bigger than a coin.

“It is easy to forget when you are at ease. You should have had the arm removed, but then,” Shiro narrows his eyes, turning his head slowly to look up to the Galran, “we both know her work is the best in the universe.”

“You're one of them; from the hold. New arm.” He motions to it and tenses, mentally preparing for a fight. He knows the shortcuts out, knows the best place to leave a corpse if he has to.

“The latest model, but I am glad you still recognise me, then again, I do leave an impression.” He watches the Galra bring his glass to his lips. “I always enjoyed your fights.”

“Are you here to kill me, take the _Black Lion_ back, or are you taking me back to him?” Shiro doesn't know his name, but he does know this guy was close to Zarkon. He never saw him on the ship, but then he never saw _much_ of it either except three places.

“That depends entirely on how much you cooperate. How much you are willing to fight, willing to bargain.” Shiro studies the unreadable gaze, trying to find any way in, but the guy offers none. He licks his lips, glancing between the bar, the prosthetic, and his own hand curled into a fist on the side. No sign he was carrying other weapons, but granted from his stature and the Galra's reputation, he didn't need it.

“You don't seem in a hurry.” Shiro starts slowly. “If this was urgent, you wouldn't be sat casually talking with me in a bar. Is Zarkon en route?”

“No.” The Galra's ears flexed as Zestera storms back in, finishing up Shiro's drink, before leaving again. He takes the bottle, pouring himself more alcohol. “After phoebs of tracking you, I am tired,” he looks to Shiro, “and think I am entitled to a drink.” He knocks it back.

“You don't want to be paid? Seems a bit weird, considering you're a...?” Shiro's not sure why he's playing along, but the guy just doesn't seem bothered at all.

“A bounty hunter.” He clarifies. “Payment is given upon your retrieval, not before.”

Shiro watches him bring out a small data pad from his coat that's likely seen better days. Shiro takes a look at the bounty, then looks again.

“He thinks that's all I'm worth, that ship?”

“Apparently so.” There was a long pause until he spoke again. “You did not run. Have not acted out in fear. You know I am here to collect, yet here you remain. Why?” Shiro watches as he tops up both their glasses. He can hear Zestera screaming from outside, the booming voice of Kal, and that alone silences a few patrons. Even the bounty hunter narrows his one working eye. Shiro's lips twitch up.

“It wouldn't be in my best interests to annoy the owner and start a brawl in the middle of her establishment. You liked how I fought in the hold, yeah?”

“I said I did.”

“She'd break me in half, and she'd give _you_ a run for your money.” He picks up the glass, watching the liquid shine in the low light as he swirls it round. “In seriousness, I don't fear you enough. I'm not going back,” Shiro pushes the coin back to the bounty hunter, “I won't be used as entertainment again, and I'm not bargaining with you. It's been great,” Shiro pauses because he doesn't know the Galra's name, “bounty hunter, but I have things to do.” He downs the rest of his drink, slamming the glass back to the counter top. They hold eye contact for a long while, almost as if there's nothing else around them, or at least nothing that matters.

“Sendak.” Sendak pushes himself up, Shiro learning how _big_ he is very quickly. “Do you believe that I will just let you stray from my sight?”

“Keep up then.” There's a current here of _something_ that Shiro doesn't know how to quantify. It's like a storm – something electric – charged between them when for all accounts there shouldn't be. Shiro wants to _make_ him work, just to see if he does.

The human is fast, the cloak used to create a barrier as he vaults the bar. Sendak's tearing the fabric away with a flash of teeth and follows his retreating form through the back of the bar. There's angry and confused voices, and he's pushing through in pursuit. Sendak didn't take this job to spite his old captain who had become so caught up in cruelty and obsession over a _ship_ he'd lost his honour, hadn't taken it because every other piece of shit who had tried to find the hold's Champion never came back; no, Sendak took this job because he _had_ to finally speak with the strange alien that fought valiantly and with such a burning ferocity it'd captivated his mind for well over a deca-phoeb. He caught a well-aimed fist; just as huge as his own from an angry-looking beast of a woman with the sharpest green eyes he'd seen in his life.

“T'fuck ya think ya doin'?” She rips her fist away, moving to grab the handle of a weapon strapped to her back.

“Working.” He brings the gauntlet up as she brings the axe down with an almighty grunt and a ringing clang. Sendak snarls and pushes her back into shelving units that break under her weight. “I have no time for you. I am here for _him_!” He has spied his quarry leaving through a door, and with haste Sendak follows. When he bursts through, he's met with the cold night air upon this little rock. His cybernetic eye alerts him to a heat signature, and he finds what he seeks below. The signature white streak against hair like the blackness of space, sharp eyes, and the body of a warrior. This is the man he has wished to meet.

“Kal's gonna hate you.” He calls up, before once again he takes off down the alleyway below. Sendak hisses and jumps; there is a chance he will try and escape to his ship, and he will _not_ spend phoebs looking for him all over again. So much as the thrill of the hunt makes his nostrils flare and blood course in his veins, to let his opportunity slip away would be an insult to his own aptitude. He has never lost a target, and as Sendak leaps over an up-turned bin used to try and slow him down, he vows that the Champion will not be the first to break his flawless record.

It becomes clear that Champion is making his way towards the port. Sendak had noted the _Black Lion_ had been resprayed, and minor revisions made to her exterior. He growls, taking the corner so sharply he almost loses his footing. The man keeps getting further away, his smaller body able to dart in and around those who walked the streets. There had to be another way to the port. He twisted his head up, staring at the roof tops. It would get him quicker to where he needed to be. With a sharp snarl that cowed the on-lookers, Sendak moved with purpose to the winding stairwell outside a housing unit. Time was of the essence; it would be quicker to climb the metalwork as opposed to using the stairs.

His feet and lungs burned, but he wasn't going back. He didn't _get_ Sendak's motivations, but as he came to a stop, leaning against a wall to catch his breath, he'd admit this was the first bounty hunter Zarkon had sent that wasn't just hell-bent on killing him right away. His lips form a smile as he pushes white strands from his face, pupils flicking back the way he came. He'll be at a disadvantage soon out in the open. With a twitch of his fingers and a crackle, he feels the energy surge through his arm as elaborate patterns of quintessence light up below the surface, and to the stead thrum of the hand, Shiro's feet are pounding once more over the ground. Once he gets to the _Black Lion_ he'll need to leave this place for who knew how long. It was a shame; he liked it here.

Before the port and docks lay the scrapyard. Shiro had not heard Sendak follow, and it was possible he'd either lost him, or he'd found a new route. With caution Shiro creeps forwards, body primed to attack at any given second. It would be easy for Sendak to hide in here, so many twisted pieces of metal and broken ships. It also meant that Shiro _could_ hide too, but then he didn't hide from anyone. He didn't fear Sendak, but he had to concede he needed to play smart. With the activated hand in front of chest, he slunk forwards keeping movements light. Galra senses were better than humans; if Sendak was here he could probably see or hear him before Shiro was even aware he was about. As he moves between the piles of metal, Shiro stops at every subtle creak and groan, and every little noise like someone's stalking him. He stops. Body tense, adrenaline high, and heart racing. There's a sense of feeling alive about the situation, about the risk, and when he hears a loud thud above him, and spots the ominous glow of two mismatched eyes, Shiro can feel an itch under his skin that he's so desperate to scratch. When Sendak drops the coat, weighted by something heavy judging by the noise it makes, and his prosthetic activates, Shiro is left with a burning need to fight the Galra as he crouches, raising his hand across his face. Guarding, waiting.

It's Sendak who comes down first. The gauntlet strikes with precision, but misses because Shiro knows what he's looking for. He moves in, using his environment to launch him over the top of Sendak. He twists and draws a dangerous line through the air, fingers ghosting close to the crest. There's a snarl like a beast and Sendak's already turned around, the organic hand aimed for his throat. Shiro makes another defensive slash of his arm and Sendak withdraws. As he lands, Sendak is upon him and all he can do is parry. Sparks fly as their prosthetics clash again and again. It's a deadly dance. A nick there through Shiro's light armour, and a cut there through Sendak's flight suit. He's losing ground, aware he's being backed into a corner. With a growl, Shiro ducks and moves under Sendak's guard. The strike is sharp and he's winded, the knee retracts. Shiro hacks and coughs as he backs away, arm raised but he knows his guards broken. He catches Sendak's eyes; focused, calculated; there's a smirk there and Shiro can't help but offer one back.

“End this.” He says, clutching his stomach as he goes in once more with his arm drawn back. With a yell he drives it forward and Sendak moves to strike once again.

He can hear the buzz; feel the heat against his throat. Shiro blinks slowly up at Sendak, panting, his own hand ghosting the side of his neck. He's on the floor, body aching. Sendak's on top. It's close. Real close. Shiro clicks his tongue and with a sigh, deactivates the hand.

“You didn't end it.”

Sendak is silent but the heat remains at his throat.

“You yield.”

“You win.” He levels. “You're faster.” The buzz diminishes and Sendak moves his prosthetic to the ground. All they do is stare, their breath the only noise between them. Shiro can see the outline of a pupil that used to be there in his eyes beyond the glow and he wonders what colour they used to be.

“You could kill me.”

“I could.” Sendak's breath smells of alcohol.

“Why don't you?” Shiro's quieter now, locked in this stare-off. He drags fingers through the dirt and tries to push himself up. Sendak growls and Shiro sees a flash of canines. He brings his body down, moving his hands to keep him pinned. It's the first time he can sense his weight, realises just how broad Sendak is.  
“If you're taking me back to Zarkon,” he bared his throat with a glower, “kill me, just like the others have tried.”

In his line of work, Sendak is used to his marks begging at this point, particularly if their lives are on the line. His orders were to bring Champion back alive, but though he asked to be slain, there was not a hint of fear in his eyes. He man continued to stare death defiantly in the face, and on this quintant he was its harbinger.

“You truly do not fear this; fear me.”

“I faced it every time I fought in that hold, every time I pushed back against Zarkon, when I escaped, and every time he sends someone after me. You,” Sendak watches him swallow, pupils flicking away for a moment before darting back, “are the first one to earn a shred of my respect. If I have to die, I'd rather it be by your hand.” The look said he was serious.

“My orders are to return you alive,” Sendak mutters as he tilts his head to the side, “however you still have room to bargain.” He can't help but lean down until he's inches above Champion's face. Sendak can feel the hot breath against his lips as Champion's pants become shallow. There's an unspoken intensity that's only amplified when the man tilts his head back to the centre.

“And what,” Champion wets his lips, “exactly would you have me bargain with?”

“That,” he finds himself mirroring the action, “is entirely up to you.” In so close, he can see the flecks that decorate the pupils of Champion's eyes. They are not such a dark grey as he expected. Sendak finds himself absently shifting, swiping the blood from a fine scratch just under the nose scar that Zarkon had given him in a fit of rage.

“That was tender. Are you always like this?” Champion's voice carries an uneasy restraint.

“No,” their faces grow closer, “I am not.”

The air is still between them, yet there is static. It is like time has ceased to exist as they remain in this stalemate. Sendak isn't sure if he or Champion acted first, but when their lips touch it's like a spark. It is then Champion strikes first, with teeth against his bottom lip. Sendak hisses but refuses to relent. He shifts his head to the side and Champion relinquishes the hold only to try again, but this time Sendak is prepared. He laces claws into the tangled mess of hair, using his prosthetic to keep himself stable as he pushes Champion's head back. With a swipe of his tongue and a press, Champion opens his mouth to protest and it is then when he strikes. He tastes sharp, but Sendak finds himself probing. Champion writhes underneath and fingers push up into the fur either side of his jaw. Even Sendak cannot refrain from a sharp hiss when he tugs. When tongues brush, a strange noise rumbles in Champion's throat and Sendak pulls sharply away. He finds the man still attached, but with a strange darkening of the skin. He's panting, heavy, and Sendak needs to prise himself away from the hold because it's stirring some primal and base needs that he could _take_ with ease, but will not.

“Is this what you wanted me to 'bargain'?” Shiro doesn't know what the hell he's feeling, but aroused should probably not be it. Sendak stands and moves away, scowling as he stares at anything other then him. Shiro sits himself up and brushes fingers against his lips. “You think I want to bargain _myself_?” He glowers upwards.

“No!” Sendak sharply barks. “Only the weak beg and bargain! You,” his face is full of angry creases, “are above that weakness!”

“So why did you ask?” Shiro grits his teeth as Sendak marches back over, casting his body in shadow. He glares up with every shred of anger his body can muster. “Why do you care? You're here for a bounty; payment.”

“If I was here just for that,” Sendak's fur, mane, whatever it was, flares, “do you honestly think we would be having this conversation? You would be in my custody, and we would be heading back to Zarkon's ship.”

“ _Why then_?” Shiro picks himself up with a grunt of pain.

“I wished to gauge you-”

“So you _kissed_ me?”

“ _You kissed me_!” Sendak gets in his face, those sharp teeth bared, but there's a continuous low rumble in his throat that doesn't seem right. Shiro flicks between them and his eyes. It's another stare off of frayed nerves. Eventually he rolls his shoulders with a shrug.

“I don't _get_ this, but whatever,” he turns and dusts the dirt from his hair, “I'm going back.”

“Back _where_?” Sendak growls as Shiro turns away from him. At this point he's not suspecting Sendak to attack him from behind, but then he doesn't _know_ what to expect from him at all. Maybe this was partly why he was enjoying the exchange.

“Room. I want a shower.” His foot sends a piece of debris across the ground as he walks away. It takes less than a minute before he hears the heavy footfalls behind him. “You think you're welcome?”

“I am not leaving you. I said that already.” There's not so much of an edge this time. Shiro stops, glancing back over his shoulder.

“I already told you what to do if that's the case.” He motions lazily with his hand for Sendak to follow. He wouldn't let his senses dull, but the charge between them was...something.

They only stop, and the silence between them breaks, when Champion offers passers-by directions with a clear conciseness and a gentle yet restrained pat on the shoulder. When they enter the shabby-looking lobby, the clerk behind the desk simply grunts with a dismissive wave of their hand as they pass. Sendak recalls the tension in the lift that could've been cut with a sword to the sound of the shower running. His ears prick at every missed beat of the water until it stops. His body is unnaturally tense as he hears wet feet slap against the floor. Sendak takes himself to the balcony, looking down at the neon lights that shine and flicker below. He tilts his head up, tapping his claws against the railing. He recalls Lotor's stories about the mysteries of the universe. How excited he would be regaling his findings to Sendak who, at least back then, had been more concerned satisfying other needs then listening. He had made errors, and one quintant Lotor decided he had made too many. He'd left, and with him went a quarter of Zarkon's allies who were taken with Lotor's charms. Zarkon and Lotor held very different beliefs on piracy, and it was where they clashed so violently. Sendak had realised too late.

“Too hot inside?”

“No,” Sendak doesn't look back as soft footsteps come to a stop, “there may be a way.”

“A way for what?”

“To keep Zarkon at bay.” He growls at the snort from his side.

“What's the catch?”

“There is no 'catch', except,” he pauses, tilting his head to the side, “what do you value more: your life or the _Black Lion_?”

“My life. It's _just_ an Altean ship. It just means I'm stranded here.”

“Are you? I presumed you enjoyed this place?”

“Because I've been here a few weeks?” Champion snorts again. Sendak catches pale skin from the corner of his eye. He tilts his head to take a proper look; noting the map of scars upon his body. Champion catches him, one dark eyebrow arches. “It's a place to stay for now, but I was planning on leaving soon. It's not good, remaining in one place. By the way, I'll walk around the space I pay for as I please. Understand?” There's an edge that has Sendak snorting now.

“Do as you please.”

“I will.”

“Fine.” Sendak watches him tighten the towel as he stalks back into the room.  
“If you want a shower, go for it.” Champion reaches into a bag, pulling a bottle of something out. At an educated guess, it's alcohol. “Want some?” He shakes it in Sendak's direction. He stills his claws, scrutinising Champion as he leans back on one arm with some devilish look upon his face.

“Yes.” He's starting to wonder what exactly he's agreed to as he crosses the room. Champion hands him the bottle, lips parted as if he was to speak.

“So you'd double-cross your contractor for someone you don't know the name of?”

“You did see your bounty?”

“Still.” Shiro taps a metal finger against his knee until Sendak hands the bottle back. “We don't know each other. I don't think you're the type of guy to do something from the 'kindness of your heart'.” At this Sendak barks a sharp laugh as he settles in the chair opposite the bed.

“I am not. You are correct there. I suppose this could be construed as 'kind'.” He takes the proffered bottle back and swigs again. “I take issue with some of his orders or choices. That, and I am sure I could sell you to a brothel for double the amount.”

“I could _earn_ more then that in a night.” Shiro mutters darkly as he points to the bag.

“Is that how you pay your way?” Sendak pulls it over, and Shiro opens the second bottle with a laugh of his own. All things considered right now, it's a fair comment.

“No. Not yet.” He takes a long drink, feeling eyes on him. “Transporting cargo on the quiet. A few other jobs,” he offers a lop-sided smile, “let's say I'm a bit of a odd-jobs guy.”

“Have you ever crossed a contractor?” Sendak leans in, and Shiro considers the question, mirroring the action.

“Just once, but the rules changed. Things,” he let the word linger as he notes how tight Sendak's suit is, sees purple through the tears, “things change. Your wounds, we need to look at them.” He plants the bottle on the floor and moves to the bathroom, snatching up the medkit he'd not long used himself.

Sendak's watching him as he dumps it on the desk.

“My body does not require a _plaster_.”

“Then at least patch up the cuts. Look, do it in the bathroom or whatever if you need privacy.” He pauses when Sendak _glares_. In silence, he starts pulling the top of the flight suit away, and Shiro resettles with his bottle. Between swigs he watches; part curious, part bored, and part because he's been enjoying this game that should be so unbalanced but it's not. They're strangers, but it doesn't feel like it; they're not friends or even allies, but they share common ground providing they can trust each other. Shiro's not sure if he can, but then right now he can't decide if he wants to stab the guy in the back or see if this can go further. His lips still tingle and his teeth marks are still visible against Sendak's bottom lip.

“I cannot stare at you, yet here we are.” Shiro didn't realise he'd been staring.

“Lost in thought. You're just very,” he scratches the back of his head, “purple.”

“Considering the Galra are _generally_ purple, one would hope.” He knows he deserves Sendak's dry response and the withering look. There's a few scars that look old, but surprisingly, unsurprisingly maybe, he's not exactly terrible on the eyes either.

“Your work must keep you busy? Some look nasty.”

“This was worst after my arm.” Sendak taps the side of the cybernetic eye. “Both Zarkon.”

“Why do you work for him when he did all that?” Sendak growls, whether it's the medical gel or not, Shiro isn't sure. “Too invasive?”

“You will learn in time.”

“So you're not killing me?”

“I have already said no! There is still no catch, I do not want your strange,” he motioned vaguely at all of Shiro, “body as some type of offering. I would at present just want your assistance to dispose of a mutual problem. I will assist you finding a ship, and then we can go our separate ways!” Sendak seems to jerk up, snapping his head to Shiro. “I offer conflicting information.” He takes a long drink from the bottle with a snarl and Shiro's pretty certain he's getting pissed off at himself.

“I'll give you a name.” Shiro slips off the side of the bed, and Sendak is watching him like a hawk. It still hurts to move from the knee to the gut earlier, but he'd had worse. He takes the bottle from Sendak's claws, planting it firmly next to the medkit. He breaches Sendak's personal space, ignores that belly snarl that's probably a warning to back off, but he's not going to. To say signals were mixed was an understatement. He presses Sendak, who offers no resistance, back into the chair. Shiro takes the gel from him and slowly starts to apply it to the other small wounds.

“My name's Shiro. If I feel I can trust you,” he says coolly as he gently pushes the fur away, “I will give you real name one day.”

“You have two names?” They catch each others eyes again, Shiro pauses. His lips twitch. Of course he knew nothing about humans.

“You could say that.” He frowns in concentration as he tracks the length of one scar.

“Are you always this tender to those you fight?” They both chuckle and Sendak reaches for the bottle again.

“No,” Shiro catches his furred wrist and teases the bottle from his fingers, “I'm not.” He downs enough to the point Sendak can see plenty of neck before depositing it back in open fingers. He lets his index finger linger a few seconds longer, because Sendak's sat there watching it trace the length with a brow that's creasing. His breathing has changed; more ragged. Shiro absently licks his lips as he lets his hand slowly drop to Sendak's hip. There's stillness again as they eyeball each other. Who's first to act; that's the question.

When the bottle slams against the side without smashing, they both move. Shiro pushes away while Sendak tries to pull him forward. He growls as the man paces back towards the bed.

“Think I'd just crawl into your arms? You should know by now,” he pushes his thumbs under the hem of the towel and cocks his hip to the side, “I'm gonna make you work for this.” He's right, and Sendak mentally kicks himself for it. With a grunt he pushes himself from the chair, Shiro's smirk broadening as he grows closer. There's want and desire burning in his gut. His arousal's straining and twitching under the tightness of the flight suit, and he wants release, wants _something_. He draws a hand up Shiro's body and plants it central over his chest. The man smirks as Sendak pushes him to the bed. He grunts, letting his head fall seductively to the side.

“You call this making me work?” He hoists Shiro's leg up to a low chuckle that stirs him up more. A foot plants hard against his chest and grinds itself against the fur.

“Have we really started?” He teases more fingers under the hem, releasing a soft moan as he rolls his hips once, then twice. “You gonna make me wait?” Sendak responds by tearing the towel away with a snap of his teeth. He pushes both legs against Shiro's chest as he bears down over the smaller body beneath him. Teeth find flesh and Shiro's hands find the back of his head with another roll of the hips. Sendak is desperately tugging his flight suit away. He ends up pulling Shiro's body up against his, because the damn alien won't detach as he removes the bastard thing.

“Desperate?” Shiro whispers as he leans up. Metal fingers drag and dip under his jaw and Sendak doesn't know how this makes him feel. He is used to control and leading for the most part, but this one seems to resist it like it was his soul universal purpose.

“Are you not as much as I?” Sendak purrs as he brushes their lips together. “Considering your lack of attire, you bringing me back here.”

“S'my choice.” Shiro's eyes half-close and he tries to catch Sendak's lip between his teeth.

“Ah, _of course_.” Sendak shifts his body before shoving him back to the sheets. “Like it was mine to leave? Your choice to try use seductive charms?”

“Yeah.” Shiro breathes. “Fucking worked.”

“It just added fuel.” Sendak snatches Shiro's arms up and pins them hard above his head. “You knew that though.” There's no answer except Shiro grinding his hips upwards.

When Sendak captures his lips, it sets Shiro's body ablaze. He groans into it and doesn't stop himself from parting his lips to feel that suffocating breathlessness again. He writhes and bucks, voice catches when Sendak pulls away abruptly. Any protest is lost when claws trace down his chest and teeth find the skin of his neck. They graze and press, moving from the side to across the jugular. There's a moment where they tug the skin over his adam's apple before Sendak's gone, and his tongue is tracking hot stripes over the collar bone. Shiro's already feeling sweat bead over his forehead, knows that Sendak must be aware of how hard he is because he's bucking upwards into taut muscle.

“ _Fuck_.”

“In time.” Sendak's rumble against his neck is hot and heavy, then he _truly_ feels something hot nudge against his taint. It's only for a second, but there's a new urge that's making his hole twitch. His internal temperature's rising and Shiro wants out; if he just _lays_ here like this pinned down, it's not going to take him long until he's begging. He tugs to free his trapped wrists under the large prosthetic, arching and undulating to give himself some wiggle room. All he's managing to do is tire himself; roll and buck into fur and immovable muscle while Sendak's licking and nipping at his throat, until he takes Shiro's breath away in a kiss. He doesn't trust the deep purr that vibrates against his lips, the way he can't read Sendak.

He frees Shiro's wrists only so he can roll the pair. He may be on his back, but as he pulls Shiro up his body and pushes him down by the shoulders, he knows Shiro has to _brace_ as he drags and swirls a tongue over the strange perky nub. Sure enough, the alien does with a sharp gasp and a twitch of his body. It's amusing as he rolls into the motion, how dark that hue's getting, how the heat signature rises. He draws metal claws along the length of the pale skin, while rolls and presses the other nub with the pad of his finger, opting to lick, graze with teeth, and suck the skin. Sendak traces the curve of his hip, his ass, to then drag claws back up and over. Shiro's more vocal and jerky, brow creased like he's concentrating on something until he drops his front against Sendak's face. A shaking hand grabs his wrist and Shiro's making Sendak knead his chest with more vigour.

“Don't _stop_.”

“Has it been this long you will bend to the slightest of touches?” Sendak pulls his hand away and captures the side of Shiro's face with a small gasp. He blinks, shivers, blinks again.

“Just... _yes_. Just.” He trails off, forcing himself up. Shiro's on display over his stomach, dragging his fingers up his abdomen to a soft pant and shiver. Red lines are left in their wake and the tip of his cock's already leaking. When metal fingers push down and curl around the shaft, Sendak's own arousal twitches and something in his stomach drops, as with a drawn-out moan, Shiro's rolling his hips and stroking the length. His human hand's carding through white stands as it tips back, and when Shiro breathes his name, the metaphoric rope snaps.

Shiro's on his back again but Sendak's not pinning him this time. There's teeth and claws dragging against his skin like he's hungry. They draw lines, dig in, and Shiro's arching this way and that. Fingers find fur and tug, hands move behind ears and pull. There's a growl but Sendak kisses him. Once again Shiro's suffocating, but he's still going to grind his leaking cock into fur and muscle. A hand finds his thigh and he's dragged down and up. Fur tickles between sensitive legs, then a hot stripe against skin. Teeth press, a hand smoothing over muscle, and then claws drag back round to wrap firmly around his cock. Their eyes catch for an electric second, Sendak's mouth is parted, then he buries himself in the space between Shiro's thighs. The moans Sendak's drawing are high, desperate, as his tongue works the space. When he dips between his ass cheeks and thumbs the head of Shiro's cock, he's seeing stars in his vision. Shiro pants as his fingers curl and twist into the sheets. There's hot breath against damp skin. Shiro can feel the tongue flick and swipe, and when it pushes in, the most undignified moan escapes his lips. He's soaked from Galra spit and his own sweat at this point, but he can't say it's a complaint when that rough tongue pushes just a bit deeper. He keens for Sendak and spreads his legs further. In response, Sendak shifts and drags him across the bed. His body's hoisted higher until he feels _it_ against his spine. Shiro bites his bottom lip; scratching the sheets in desperation between trying not to finish now, kick Sendak on reflex, or scream at the top of his lungs he wants to be fucked until he can't walk.

If he hadn't decided to betray Zarkon, Sendak was certain he could easily trick Shiro after this. The man beneath was a roiling ball of pleasure. Sendak withdraws his tongue and presses teeth against toned skin; enjoying the jerk and whimper, the way Shiro's toes curl, how his head falls to the side as he pants. Between half-closed eyes, Shiro moans as he looks between his swollen cock and Sendak's eyes. He slides his hand down Shiro's side, watching the man draw one metal finger to his lips. He trails his tongue from the palm to the tip, and without missing a beat, takes the mechanical digit down to the knuckle. A shiver runs the length of Sendak's spine at the sheer seductiveness of the act, and as Shiro slips another claw in with a throaty moan, he wants to see the man's throat stuffed with something bigger. Sendak drops Shiro to the sheets. He's about to move but the alien's upon him. Hands firmly stroke over the ridges and bulge at the base, but within ticks, Shiro's tongue is busying itself. He laps greedily between throaty whines, and it is when it breaches soft lips into the tight wet cavern of the man's mouth, does Sendak let his head fall forwards. He grabs Shiro's shoulders as his fingers dig into the meat of Sendak's ass and they're meeting each others thrusts. Shiro's clearly desperate, and Sendak wants to just fuck his throat with abandon. Claws card and curl in the dark strands as he watches Shiro force more down his throat. He coughs and splutters around the length, but those fingers are dragging and pinching skin. Sendak will concede the man is not a lazy bedmate. Especially when he growls, when he presses teeth between the ridges.

Thick trails of saliva snap when Sendak pushes him back to the mattress. Shiro's in a giddy haze when Sendak flips him to his stomach.

“Knees.” It's a demand rather than a request. Shiro complies but to one-up Sendak, prises his cheeks apart. There's the lowest snarl he's ever heard from behind and it's enough to make his core shake as with little warning, he feels the hot wet mess against his twitching hole. Shiro tries, as he pushes back, to press it against the aching rim.

“Fuck. _Please_.”

The slap against his ass rings alongside the sharp moan that rolls from his tongue. His body jerks but he's grinding back, trying to get the length between his soaked cheeks. If anything, Shiro thinks, as he arches his back in satisfaction, it's extra stimulation.

“At least you will have _some_ use.” Sendak purrs. “Desist.” He's quickly back in control that Shiro's happy to yield. He tugs his cheeks a little further apart with a shudder when the tip lines back up. The press is great, then painful, and the he feels the burn and stretch. Shiro's clawing at the sheets and growling in pleasure-pain as the ridges stretch him almost to breaking. With a grunt he's pushing back, ignoring the drool from the corner of his mouth, ignoring the fact it hurts but just for now. They may be small as Sendak sinks down into him, but it's something to soothe the burn. Shiro drops his front and braces the sheets, catching fabric between teeth as the bulge kisses against the rim. There's a long, reverberating growl from above before Sendak pulls back, and Shiro cries out into the fabric. It's louder when the Galra pushes back in with a sharp hiss.

Shiro's tight; almost painfully so. He rolls his hips and the man chokes on the bedding once more. It's a reaction he's uncertain of, but one that he's going to enjoy if this isn't just sheer pain. Shiro meets him again; a good sign at least. He presses the gauntlet into the sheets and keeps a hand on Shiro's waist, shifting his position to aim deeper. They can work through the bulge if he cannot take it, but the thought of the man taking it all, crying his name like a holy man calls for his god, well. Sendak offers a sharper thrust back in and Shiro's eyeballing him from the mattress. They can work on that when there are no longer any distractions or concerns. He picks up the pace just enough he isn't coming in less than five dobosh's, but he's not going to last. He takes Shiro's cock back in hand, slathering precome all around the head.

“S-Still.” He orders again, before drawing himself back out and plunging back between toned cheeks. It's good, like Shiro's drawing him down further and further. It's like he can't see or think straight as he loses himself in those hot depths that grow less and less resistant the more he fucks Shiro open to increasingly louder groans and cries. When they're on his ship, he'll make Shiro scream more.

Sendak's growls are picking up as the bulge starts verging on entry. His pace has increased to the point the bed's creaking under the momentum and Shiro may as well be eating the sheets as he tries to muffle his screams. His vision's flickering, mind losing coherency. When he starts meeting the thrusts again, Sendak's purrs become heavier. When he shifts again the bed creaks louder. There's a hot weight and fur pressed over his hips and lower back, and it hits _deeper_ somehow.

“Harder! _Fuck_!” He manages before he's lost to a drooling incoherency. Sendak gives him what he asked for, fucking him so hard the bed's hitting the wall and he's starting to fold under the ferocity. He doesn't realise the bulge's gotten anywhere until he feels something slip and Sendak's growl crack. They're both shaking; Shiro's muscles going into overdrive as they try to process what's inside him, but Sendak's incapable of stopping, and Shiro doesn't want him to as the head strikes his prostate like it's meant supposed to. He's clawing madly, rutting in an erratic mess into Sendak's hand and desperate. Sendak's out of sync, his metal claws tearing the sheets to shreds underneath until teeth pierce the meat of his shoulder. Shiro's voice is hoarse as he cries out, spilling out over the sheets, but when Sendak comes, it's like he's being flooded from the inside. It's too much, so much, and as he fucks the last of his orgasm into Shiro, he can feel it already slipping from his hole and tracking the length of his thighs. There's a few precious moments of silence before Sendak collapses to the side, bringing Shiro down with him. The tongue's busy over the bite mark, but Shiro's too exhausted to care much about it. It was probably a Galran thing, like giving someone a hickey. He closes his eyes, swiping drool away with his thumb.

“S'good. Enjoy?”

His response is a purr and fur against his back. A hand reaches round and strokes the length of his chest. He'll take that as a win for now.

-

Sendak finds him on the balcony; not escaped as he had expected. Shiro's stood in a pair of shorts and nothing else, tapping the bottle from last night against the railing while he smokes.

“You did not run.”

“I don't think I'd get very far after what we did last night.” He takes a swig before taking a drag.

“I did not know you smoked.”

“I don't.” Sendak wishes to point out he has one in his hand, but it doesn't matter. “You could've easily played me, like I could've killed you and got away.”

“We both could of, yes.” He takes the bottle, ignoring the pout as he raises it to his lips. “We did not. As I said, I would like to rid myself of a problem we both share. It makes sense to work together.”

“I don't think you need my help, really.” Shiro took a longer drag before exhaling. They watched the smoke drift away. “I think you just want company.” Shiro's tone indicates something like a joke, but his eyes say something different. “Of course, only for a while.”

“We would need to lay low. Perhaps head to another quadrant entirely.” Sendak drinks again. “It needs to be calculated.”

“If you – _we're_ – going after Zarkon, we need to factor in his allies. It's no good saying I ran off into the 'edge of the universe' and you didn't follow, and we can't both pretend to be dead either. Someone _will_ catch us. You...don't know anyone who knows how to make people 'disappear'? Aside from you?” Shiro watches him carefully as he considers the _one_ person he does know, but their relationship isn't exactly good either.

“More planning is required.”

“Yeah, just a bit.” Shiro mutters, pulling another cigarette from behind his ear. “Want it? I missed an after-sex smoke, so I'm making up for it.”

“I'd rather you be sucking on something else,” Sendak snorts at the second pout he's received in less then ten dobosh's, but accepts it nonetheless, “I can forestall him, but not for long.” He accepts Shiro's lighter, and the two bask in the silence, passing the bottle between each other intermittently.

“I have things to sort out if that's the case. You're going to be leaving me without a ship, without work,” he eyes Sendak with caution, “I need you to prove your loyalty.”

“The same applies to you. Just because you fuck like a port whore does not mean you would not sell me out for twenty-thousand GAC.” He dodges the punch aimed for his side with ease. Shiro turns to him bodily, downing the remains of the bottle as he tosses the cigarette butt over the railing.

“You want this rammed up your fucking ass? Because I bet I can get you screaming like some port whore _given the opportunity._ ”

“You can try, but you will fail.” Sendak stubs the butt out and moves back inside. “Come keep me company in the shower,” he tilts his head back, noting where exactly those pupils are lingering, “ _little port whore_.” His goading works, and Shiro's making a beeline for him, prosthetic fist raised. With a growl he launches, and their prosthetics collide again.

“Let us try not to fight within such small confines.” He whispers hoarser then he intended. Shiro pulls away first, but pushes past his prosthetic into his personal space. Hands plant on his hips, squeezing as tight as they can.

“Then we'll fight where it seems to matter,” he nods towards the bed, “because I don't plan on submitting to you all the time.” He slips past Sendak, letting fingers brush and squeeze the semi-hard erection that's itching to be freed again from his flight suit. “C'mon, stop stalling and take a shower with me.” He finds Shiro's kicked off his shorts, and with a sharp slap against his own ass, he moves into the bathroom. Like an idiot, Sendak follows.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few vague ideas where this would go after I finished writing, but I like their weird dynamic. It was just a bit of fun to write.  
> Sendak having the feels for once was a nice change of pace, but I needed to write this after Chapter 64 of mymm. Jesus that fucking killed me hahah.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Lemme know with a comment or kudos below.
> 
> Thank you!


End file.
